Dying Over and Over
by nickaroos
Summary: Death comes to all humans. It's not about if you will die, but when and how. She was more aware that most that death was not some imagery event that happens to other people. She knew that her own ending was only a matter of timing. This is a very short story of a woman meeting her end by the lips and teeth of a vampire. *COMPLETE*
1. Finally

Title: Dying Over and Over

Summary: This is a very short story of a vampire meeting a strange woman told from the perspective of the woman. It is much darker than any of my other stories, so be warned.

Rating: R for suggestions of sexual abuse, references to consensual sexual content, and death.

Disclaimer: _Obviously I am not Stephanie Meyer. The story is mine, however.  
_

Note: This story is structured almost like a rising stanza where the first and last chapter are the shortest, the middle chapters slightly longer, and the very center chapter the longest. Given the chapters' purposeful brevity, I will update this every third day.

 **Finally**

* * *

Kelly had turned thirty-nine. Next year the girls wanted us to all go to Las Vegas or something to celebrate her big four-o. I had just come out of the club where we had been dancing. It was our way of celebrating birthdays. They had wanted to stay later and I had been ready to go. They were used to me being the first to leave, and didn't put up too much of a fuss.

Walking a little down the street I put out my hand calling a cab. It took a few minutes, but eventually one pulled up.

As I went to get in, a beautiful stranger spoke, even though I had thought no one had been near me.

"May I share the cab with you?" he asked in the sexiest deep voice that sounded as if it would make the most exquisite croons. It had a lilt to it that was impossible to place containing too many sounds as if he had travelled the whole globe and spoke every language.

Our eyes caught briefly once. His were dark and broadcasted danger.

Unable to speak I simply nodded unafraid but curious.

When the cabbie asked for my destination my voice sounded strangled.

Observing the stranger out of the corner of my eye only added to the mystery. Despite his beauty, the rest of him was out of place. His skin looked old, fragile almost, and too translucent as if it belonged to a a ninety-year-old instead of the thirty-something I guessed him to be. This stood in contradiction to the fact that no blue lines could be seen under his skin and that it lacked the wrinkles and ridges expected. Then there was the fact that his body spoke of strength and power. His pants looked too large and were frayed or worn in many place, but most of all on the bottom. His shoes were in even worse condition. His shirt, that could be seen peeking out under his jacket, was casual while the pants were on the dressier side. The jacket matched neither the top, the pants, nor seemed warm enough for the weather. At the same time he held himself in a noble manner that spoke of being a dignitary.

He was either extremely eccentric or significantly lacking in the money department.

Reaching my destination I paid the cab and the stranger exited with me, even though he'd given the cabbie a different address. The cabbie eyed him wearily, but said nothing driving off.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked his voice warming everything within me my body nearly demanding that I give in to him.

"No thanks, it's been a long night," I respectfully told him added as I walked away, "Have a good evening," ignoring my body's desires.

After climbing the six steps to the apartment building's landing and entering the key code I opened the lobby door. Stepping inside I heard the door click behind me and felt relieved that the stranger had not attempted to follow me. Standing in front of the elevator I briefly glimpsed outside, but he was gone. My emotions were mixed as my eyes continued to look out the windows only coming back to my location when the elevator dinged announcing its arrival. I rode up the elevator to the tenth floor, inserted the key into my lock, and opened the door heavily.

The instant the door bolted behind me I saw the stranger saunter towards me. "You, mon chéri, are just too scrumptious to pass up. I promise to be quick."

Before I had a chance to even scream he was on top of me pushing me into the door his hand over my mouth and his lips along my neck. Then there was scorching pain accompanied by a feeling of floating, as if my very life force was being pulled into him through his lips. It was intoxicating and transfixing while also suffocating and excruciatingly painful.

Closing my eyes I immersed myself into the sensation he created while a small part of me was aware that whatever he was doing was killing me. I was slightly apprehensive and somewhat curious to see what existed after death, but, as I had longed for death so often over the years, I found myself simply grateful to this stranger for the manner in which I counted my final minutes. I had certainly dreamed of worse ways to die. Even though time slowed down, it didn't take long before everything went black and with appreciation and contentment I contemplated no more thoughts.


	2. Contentment

**Contentment**

* * *

I was in the cab categorizing this stranger, but that couldn't be. I had died. He had killed me. Looking over at him I smiled wearily presuming that I had dreamed that he had killed me. How many times had I dreamt of death? How many times, in how many ways, had I woken up with the image of my life having ended in brutal ways too awful to recount? Too many for me to number.

My death dreams had started when I was sixteen. I had hated school, hated my parents, and most of all hated the man who came into my bed without my permission telling me that only by me keeping quiet could I be a good girl and be loved. At the time, I had wanted a way out of my life and then the dreams had started. Even though I left for college choosing a place far way, anytime I felt overwhelmed or stressed or even simply sad the dreams would return.

Over the years I dreamt of more than death; it was like they spoke my destiny. Sometimes my dreams would become reality and I would have a sense of déjà vu. Sometimes I wouldn't remember the dream, but in my waking life I had the sensation of having already done what I was doing. And so I came to believe that if I just held on a little bit longer that soon events would relieve me of the burdens of this life.

It wasn't so much that I wanted to die as that I was tired. I was bone tired; tired of getting up in the morning and slaving at work; tired of working hard and for what?; tired of coming home to an empty apartment. I had held onto the knowledge my dreams had provided for over twenty years. They were trustworthy. There had been dreams where my death was drawn out or accompanied by untold horrors. With those upon awakening I had made different choices, and those dreams had never been realised.

Looking at this man more closely I was certain that he was the man from my dream. Yes, this was a man quite easily capable of killing me. Looking back to the bald spot on the cabbie's head I smiled contently. The only thing I was really afraid of was pain. The death he offered wasn't too horrid, as deaths go. And I was ready to stop fighting the inevitable, but then I had been for years.

When we reached my destination I paid the cabbie and the stranger exited, as I expected he would. The cabbie eyed him wearily, but said nothing driving off.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked his voice warming everything within me my body nearly demanding that I give in to him.

Eying him speculatively and considering my options with great care I replied, "Yes, I think that might be just the right ending."

He looked at me strangely for a moment and then his face once more composed into a gentle ambivalence. He moved his body towards the direction of Lincoln Park.

"One moment, please," I told him.

Since it was my last walk I didn't want to do it with my feet hurting. Placing one hand on the lamppost along with my purse I used the other to unstrappen my left shoe, then I changed hands and position and removed my right shoe.

He watched me as someone might watch a play–detached but curious and enlivened.

"I'm ready now," I informed him putting my shoes in my left hand and my bag in my right.

Without a word he turned and moved once more towards the park. He allowed me to set the pace and although he strolled next to me, his movements were entirely too graceful.

"What brings you to the city?" I asked once we had entered the park.

"A little of this and a little of that," he replied with ease, but with a tone that suggested that his life held little interest for him.

"Have you lost your passion for what you do?" I asked softly unsure of the kind of questions appropriate to ask my killer.

There was a full second silence before he spoke. "After a while everything looks the same, every place is the same, and the monotony of existence bit by bit takes with it the exuberance that youth held."

Considering his reply I appreciated his philosophical stance. At least my killer was intelligent and reflective. Why his sophistication should please me was illogical. But it did, as did the feeling of the cold concrete under my feet, and how the little rocks making up the material massaged my sore pads without being too sharp. With each step I rolled my feet into the ground enjoying the sensation.

"Before innocence is taken the young have the privilege of hoping, of believing, of dreaming," I told him in agreement.

"Aye," he stated simply.

After a few hundred feet had passed under my feet I asked, "Do you hold any expectation that one day you will regain the feeling of possibility that youth held?"

This time the silence was even longer. "No, mon shéri, I cannot say that I do. I do what I must to survive and although I have seen a great many things, they have begun to all seem the same. Perhaps in fifty years cars will fly or something else like that. And, although I might pause and marvel, it wouldn't change the reality of my existence."

I nodded knowingly using the light the lampposts provided to carefully examine the trees around us, the emptiness they held with their leaves shed, and how they moved in the wind.

A wonderful silence came upon us as if we were old friends enjoying a stroll little needing to be said.

We were in a particularly dark part of the park when he stopped.

Turning I looked at him a knowing smile touching my lips.

"You are not afraid," he stated as if needing no confirmation of this.

"No," I confirmed nonetheless.

"You are very strange," he commented while tipping his head to the side.

"Yes, many have said as much," I agreed.

"Not even a hint of fear," he stated confused.

"No," I confirmed.

He moved towards me.

The edges of my mouth moved upward a bit pleased that I had been correct.

He would kill me.

I was glad.

He paused mid step as if frozen. "You are pleased?" he enquired.

"Yes," I agreed.

"How very strange," he mused.

I smiled knowingly. I had been strange since the dreams had started.

He stepped closer and slowly took his hand around to the back of my head. He looked at me carefully once more. "I will make it quick," he assured me.

"Thank you," I told him appreciative that I got to say the words.

His lips found my neck, the pain was as excruciating as in my dream but the relief was just as palatable.

I surrendered to the sensation, to the feeling of him pulling my life from me, the light-headedness it gave me, and found myself wrapped in contentment and gratitude. It could not have been a better death.


	3. Gift of Appreciation

**Gift of Appreciation**

* * *

I crossed the threshold of Lincoln Park with my high heeled shoes in my left hand and my purse in my right. After a few steps we were near a bench with a couple necking twenty feet away.

"May we sit?" I asked needing time to orient myself before my end.

"Of course, mon chéri, I am in no rush," he said smoothly.

Looking him in his eyes that were black as the night's sky and endless as a black hole I told him, "Thank you," attempting to convey my gratitude for giving me this moment and for what he was going to do.

Sitting I looked out into the park with my killer sitting next to me not a foot away. Considering that I had not one, but two dreams of this stranger killing me in two different locations, I easily concluded that my wait was nearly at its end. Such a confirmation was sweet relief.

It seemed, with greater reflection, like there was some possibility that I got to choose the location of my death. I had said no to a walk and had died in my apartment. I had said yes to the walk and had died in the park. If I indeed got to choose, what did I want? Did I want to be indoors surrounded by my sparse belongings? Did I want to be outside in a park surrounded by trees?

Twice he had given me a contented death. Sure there was pain, but that was to be expected. It was the other aspects that he brought that created a yearning within me to repay him in some way. Was there something that I could present to him as a gift of appreciation?

Words my unwelcomed visitor, from years ago, had uttered came to mind. "This temple," he had said as he had run a finger down my front, "will be a treasured gift to whom is meant to behold it after me."

I had never found anyone after him that I had considered worth offering my body to. Consequently, I had lived a lonely existence all these years with him being my only sexual encounter. He had taken what was not rightfully his; I knew that, yet I had wanted someone worthy of his words. Was this stranger worthy? The mercy he had showed me in how he had killed me spoke volumes. I would go so far to say that he had killed me kindly, if such a statement were possible, twice, in fact. Then there was the fact that he appeared to be in need of connection as much as me.

My eyes took in my surroundings basking in the wonder of the trees, of their bark and limbs. I watched as people mulled about or tried to find quiet corners to please the other. The world was quite a glorious place. I was glad to have had the opportunity to experience it, but I was ready to go.

I began to grow cold and my behind began to ache. Turning towards him slowly I asked, "Would you like to come up to my apartment with me?"

His features twisted into confusion for a moment, then came back into the peaceful expression he usually wore. "If that is what you desire," he agreed almost lazily as if it matter not to him.

"Yes," I told him confidently. I was sure.

He stood fluidly waiting for me.

Standing I stepped towards him placing my hand around his arm and leaning into him. "This way," I instructed and stepped in the direction we needed to go.

Coldness radiated out of him and his arm was solid. I found both reassuring. Even if I had been scared and tried to run he would have stopped me. That was greatly comforting. Being scared seemed silly, but, somehow, the knowledge that no matter how I responded tonight, it was assuredly my last night alive, ended any concerns that I might have had regarding grudging through another day, and brought me comfort. And his coldness was a physical token of what he would give me. Shortly, I would also be cold, all of my warmness pulled out of me by his lips.

When we came to my building he held the door out for me, which I found endearing. I couldn't have been sent a more perfect manifestation of what I wanted death to be like.

He did the same at my apartment door.

Once we entered and it was bolted behind me I asked, "Can I get you something?"

"No," he told me his voice sultry.

"Wait here please," I requested. "I'd like to put my shoes away."

He nodded standing in the foyer.

"Make yourself comfortable," I told him.

After placing my shoes in my closet, I pulled out a few papers and made sure all of affairs were in order. When that was complete I came back into the living space to find him standing by the back patio staring out the window.

Coming up behind him I put my hand on his back between his shoulder blades.

Turning to look at me he commented, "You are nervous."

"Yes, for what I wish to ask."

"Not of me?" he checked.

"No, I wish to ask a question and doing so is making me nervous."

He eyed me speculatively and then nodded.

I moved to stand next to him and took his arm like how I had while we had walked.

We stood there a long time while I ensured if I really wanted to offer this to him. By the time that my heart had calmed and my head was clear I spoke softly, "I would like to offer my body to you for sexual purposes." As soon as the words exited my mouth my nerves came back.

He made a sound as if taking in air through his teeth and, if all possible, his body seemed to have hardened even more.

"It has been a long time," he eventually said.

Saying nothing I simply focused on calming myself. The words were out. My offer had been given.

Long before I was fully calm he said, "Why do you offer this?"

"You will give me a content death. It is the best gift I have to give to you to thank you in return," I told him quietly.

He seemed to still completely. Not even the sound of him breathing was present. When he spoke his voice sounded as if it was in shock. "You wish to thank me for killing you?"

"Yes," I told him fervently.

"You are very strange," he told me.

"Yes," I agreed.

After a brief paused he warned me, "I am very strong. I am likely to break your bones. It might not be pleasant."

I blanched having not considered this. After much contemplation I told him, "For my sake I would prefer it to be painless. Nevertheless, my offer still stands. I have nothing else of equal worth to give you," I explained with a tinge of sadness wishing I had something more precious to give.

"Is your death not enough?" he asked casually.

"My death is a gift you are giving me. I cannot give you what you are gifting me," I explained.

"Then I will accept," he stated simply after a brief pause.

"Let me prepare my bed and myself," I told him and kissed his arm before walking away.

Walking into my room I pulled down the sheets and undressed placing my clothes into the hamper. It was a strange sensation of lying myself out knowing what was ahead.

"Come," I told him simply once I was ready.

I could not hear him approach until the knob turned and the door squeaked open. Once he stepped through the doorway, he closed it behind him and proceeded to take of his shoes. He placed them together next to the door. Then, he removed his jacket folding it neatly placing it on top of his shoes. Next off came his shirt, which he placed on top of his jacket. Lastly his pants were neatly folded and became the top of his pile.

Naked he walked towards me slowly and examined me as if trying to decide how to proceed.

"Turn over," he commanded.

I did as he had instructed resting my forehead on top of my folded arms so that I have some room to breath. Then he came and sat on top of my rump with his weight on his legs. Then he began touching my skin.

"Tell me if I press too hard," he demanded sharply.

"Yes, sir," I told him reverting to the language my unwelcomed visitor had instilled upon me.

His touch started out light as a feather and I could barely feel him. Eventually it grew in strength as he moved around my shoulders and top of my back.

"Too much," I told him when it became painful.

He moved down and placed his hands on either side of my legs pushing them aside. Then sitting himself between me he repeated the same pressure test on my right thigh in an almost massage motion and then moved to the left.

"Too much," I stated with an involuntary intake of breath on the third pass.

"Turn over," he directed.

Then in a very precise orderly fashion he proceeded to lick and suck and massage all parts of me. I rose into ecstasy only to barely come back down before rising again. Hours later when I was in a place of complete bliss and unable to even move my lips to form words, he mounted me and in once motion took me. His coldness within my warmth was like a soothing balm that also simultaneously sent every nerve ending ablaze.

When he became more forceful in his movements I felt a spike of pain, as if my pelvic bone had cracked, but I did not cry out unable to articulate more than a grunt.

He moved me to a position that allowed greater depth and where the dull pulsing of my pelvis was barely felt. His motions sent waves of pleasure though my body over and over. At some point he spread my legs further than I knew they could go and I felt an uncomfortable pull on my hips and legs as if something had torn, but the coolness of his body and the bliss he instilled in me made the discomfort manageable. Hours passed as he changed in tempo from slow to fast, from gentle to the hardness that caused breaks and tears. This body was soon to be discarded anyway. So instead of the pain, I focused on the bliss, on the feeling of him on me and in me, and my hope that he appreciated my gift.

Without warning he stilled himself and told me, "The sun is close to rising, mon chéri, I must go."

I nodded in consent.

Keeping himself within me and pulling me close, he brought his lips to my neck. The pain of him slicing me was negligible compared to the previous two times and his cold lips numbed the throbbing. I felt him take it all, my life along with all that we had shared, leaving nothing but an empty shell. As my mind slowed I hoped that my gift had improved his life at least a little.


	4. All Things Must End

**All Things Must End**

* * *

I was standing in front of my apartment door with my stranger behind me slightly on my right. As the remembrance of my dream filled me, a huge smile grew. He would say yes. He would take the gift that I would offer him. I was pleased beyond compare.

Once we entered my apartment and it was bolted behind me I told him, "Make yourself comfortable. If you'd wait a moment please, I'd like to put my shoes away."

He nodded standing in the foyer.

After my shoes were in the rightful place I pulled out a few papers and made sure all of my affairs were in order. Then I came back into the living space to find him standing by the back patio staring out the window.

Coming up behind him I put him hand on his back smiling slightly. "I have a gift to offer you."

"A gift?" he asked confusion and disbelief showing in his tone.

I moved to stand next to him and took his arm like how I had when we had walked together two dreams ago.

Looking out through the windows I considered how my dreams had brought me to this moment and how, even though I had dreamt my death by this stranger three times already, each a better death than the one before, I was standing next to him. The whole thing was quite incredible actually. Smiling slightly and sighing in deep contentment I told him softly, "I would like to offer my body to you for sexual purposes." As soon as the words exited my mouth my nerves came back, but I quickly hushed them. They were unnecessary. He had already said yes in my dream.

He made a sound as if taking in air through his teeth, and, as in my dream, his body seemed to harden even more.

"It has been a long time," he eventually said as a sense of déjà vu filled me.

Whatever concerns or nervousness that might have been retreated in the complete calmness that overcame me. I had always believed that my déjà vus told me that I was on the right path. I trusted them over everything.

After a few moments he asked, "Why do you offer this?"

"You will give me a content death. It is the best gift I have to give to you in appreciation," I told him quietly only on this utteration this there was more strength behind my words.

He stilled as he had in my dream. When he spoke his voice sounded as if it was in disbelief. "You wish to thank me for this?"

"Yes," I told him fervently.

"You are very strange," he told me once more.

"Yes," I agreed.

"I am very strong. I am likely to break your bones. It might not be pleasant," he warned me as he had in the dream.

Considering my dream I told him, "For my sake I would prefer it to be painless. Nevertheless, my offer still stands. Might I suggest you test your strength on where I am more durable first and ease into things?"

"Is your death not enough to give?" he asked casually without a pause.

"My death is a gift you are giving me. I cannot give you what you are gifting me," I explained.

"Then I will accept," he stated simply as I knew he would.

"Let me prepare my bed and myself," I told him kissing his arm before walking away.

Walking into my room I pulled down the sheets, undressed myself, placed my clothes into the hamper, made sure my phone was off, and ensured everything was in order. My body was full of anticipation knowing what was ahead.

"Come," I told him simply, once I was ready, already on my stomach.

After undressing and folding his clothes in the exact manner as he had in the dream, he came and sat on top of my rump with his weight on his legs. Then he began touching my skin.

"Tell me if I press too hard," he demanded sharply.

"I will," I promised him.

His touch started out light as a feather just as before. The anticipation of what I knew was to come caused every touch to feel even more tinged. My whole body was in tune with his movements. Eventually his touch grew in strength as he moved around my shoulders and top of my back.

"Too much," I told him right before it would have become painful.

Then he carried out his test on my thighs.

"Too much," I stated when it was merely tender.

"Turn over," he directed.

Then in the exact precise orderly fashion as my dream he proceeded to lick and suck and massage all parts of me. Ecstasy came even easier, my peaks higher, and my lows less low. Hours later completely in a state of bliss and every muscle, every joint pure jelly he slipped between me and gently pushed himself inside of me. The dichotomous nature of his coldness against my heat, the soothing balm with my nerve endings ablaze felt familiar like somehow our joining was exactly what made everything feel right.

Settling into a deep sense of contentment I knew without doubt that the death he had offered and I had chosen was a good one.

This time I paid attention to his motions and would tell him, "too much" when he veered towards an intensity that would probably have damaged me. The pure pleasure without any pain was a new experience for me. I wanted him like I had never wanted anything before. I wanted him to do this to me over and over and never stop. For the first time my body felt cherished and wanted. And I wondered if this was what it felt like to feel alive.

More hours passed as he did things to my body that I had not known were possible moving me into positions that made the whole experience feel different. He was behind me flowing in and out his hands on my shoulders using them to secure me when he spoke the words that had ended things in the dream. "The sun is close to rising, mon chéri, I must go."

"I know," I told him resigned that it must end.

He took me to one more peek before pushing me into the bed so that my behind was high in the air, my knees spread, and my chest pressed onto the bed. Keeping himself within me he pulled in close and he brought his lips to my neck. The pain of him slicing me was expected and his cold lips numbed the throbbing. I focused on his in and out movements and the new wave of pleasure that he gave me. As he gave me rapture I felt him take it all, my life along with all that he had given me leaving nothing but an empty shell.

The gazelle died so the lion might live, and I was so grateful that I had offered my life in this way. As my mind slowed I hoped that my gift had improved his life at least a little, but I was sad that our time together had to end, as all things must.


	5. Push and Pull

**Push and Pull**

* * *

I was lying on my stomach on the bed with him by my door undressing.

Over and over I died only to wake up with him once more folding his clothes into a neat pile. Our words and motions changed little, although I got better at communicating to him, and he improved his treatment of my body. After about sixty deaths he unexpectedly stopped sinking his teeth inside me and instead used his fingernail to cut into a vein ending my life with even less pain. Each time I died it got harder to wish for death. The conundrum was that I wanted this night to last forever.

I was no fool, but somewhere in the last twenty or so deaths I had realised that I had been wrong. I was not gifting him my body and he gifting me my death. We were in a symbiotic relationship.

We gave our bodies to one another; I gave him my life force, which nourished him. His pleasure, my pleasure, my death, his life were all rolled into one. I was not his equal, clearly. It was the beauty of creation when one creature sacrificed itself so that another creature could continue on. Only I was tired of being the one to offer myself. For the first time since sixteen I wanted be more than the sacrificial lamb.

It had been more than a hundred times that he spoke the same fateful words, "The sun is close to rising, mon chéri, I must go" when my breathing hitched and a tear rolled down my cheek. He moved us so that he was above me his legs over my pelvis him still within me.

"You not afraid," he commented.

"No, just sad," I replied.

"Were you hurt?" he asked with a frown.

"Oh, no!" I gasped. "Not at all," I impressed upon him. "You were amazing, a fantastic lover."

"Then why are you sad?" he pressed.

"I know that I must die tonight. It is the death I choose. Despite this, I cannot help but wish that we could do this for eternity. I understand it must end, and for that I am sad."

"Hmm," he mumbled. He looked like he was contemplating something. "Perhaps we could continue, but it will cost you great pain, worse than you can imagine, far worse than death."

"I would no longer be the lamb?" I asked checking.

His eyes spoke of ancient knowledge and an understanding that I had never considered possible. "If you don't wish to be," he said simply.

"I do not," I stated emphatically.

"Pack a backpack of things you might want and clothes," he instructed.

"Can we have one more day here, like this?" I asked.

He pondered. "Yes, I see no reason that is not possible."

"Thank you," I told him.

Wiggling he let me up. I kissed him on the cheek, took care of my human needs and shortly came back to him.

We made love in a new way with me being a greater participant and exploring him. As the night closed upon us I told him, "I want to shower and I need to pack."

"I will join you," he replied curtly.

We showered, I packed, and together we walked out of my apartment a few hours before the sun was to rise.

"I will take you someplace where you can scream and no one will ask questions."

"All right," I agreed excited yet apprehensive of what might come next. I had never dreamed anything beyond death.

We were deep in a forest and the sun was just beginning to peak through the trees.

He looked nervous.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The last time I changed someone they became the ruler of my kind and forced me into hiding," he told me solemnly.

"Then we shall hide together," I promised him.

"No promises. Nothing is guaranteed," he demanded sharply.

"Nothing is guaranteed," I agreed. "I hope to see you on the other side," I told him closing my eyes.

Even though it was early spring and still quite cold he had insisted I wear a skirt.

He moved down my legs, spread my booted feet, lifted my skirt, and leaned close into my centre before sinking his teeth into my thigh. I had died already a few times from that location. The pain of him slicing through me was just as excruciating as the first time. Only this time he didn't pull my life force out. This time he pushed his life force into me and I burned.

 **Fin**

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to everyone who left a review conveying to me your thoughts. A special shout out to kiwihipp and 4Gracie04 who were gracious enough to do so through the chapters. I often say that a writer is merely a hobbyist without readers. As this story is very outside of my norm, I'd love to hear your reactions._

 _My next story will be a sequel to A Little More Heart. I anticipate starting posting it sometime in January. Till then I would implore you to find joy in your life in some way everyday._


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